NATURE LEAVES 



dropped down quickly to the ground in pursuit of 

 an insect, and sat a moment upon the brown surface, 

 giving us a vivid sense of its bright new plumage. 



When the leaves of the trees are just unfolding, 

 or, as Tennyson says, 



" When all the woods stand in a mist of green. 

 And nothing perfect," 



the tide of migrating warblers is at its height. They 



come in the night, and iu the morning the trees are 



alive with them. The apple-trees are just showing 



the pink, and how closely the birds inspect them in 



their eager quest for insect food! One cold, rainy 



day at this season Wilson's black-cap — a bird that 



is said to go north nearly to the Arctic Circle — 



explored an apple-tree in front of my window. It 



came down within two feet of my face, as I stood by 



the pane, and paused a moment in its hurry and 



peered in at me, giving me an admirable view of its 



form and markings. It was wet and hungry, and it 



had a long journey before it. What a small body to 



cover such a distance! 



The black-poll warbler, which one may see about 



the same time, is a much larger bird and of slower 



movement, and is colored much like the black and 



white creeping warbler with a black cap on its head. 



The song of this bird is the finest in volume and most 



insectlike of that of any warbler known to me. It 



is the song of the black and white creeper reduced, 



high and swelling in the middle and low and faint 



115 



